


Some Kinda Heroism

by Cloudnine101



Series: Ordinary People, Everday Heroes [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Awesome Sam Winchester, Castiel In Love, Cross-dressing (kinda), Dean Being Dean, Dean Being an Idiot, Dean is a Cool Cat, Discovery, Kissing, M/M, Superheroes, Supervillains
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-23
Updated: 2014-12-23
Packaged: 2018-03-03 01:01:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2832470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cloudnine101/pseuds/Cloudnine101
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'Castiel's head is tilted to one side, and he's pushing, and his hands are everywhere, and what is this what is this what is this, Dean's getting snogged by a freaking super-villain, and he's in a freaking supply cupboard - and what is his life?'</p>
            </blockquote>





	Some Kinda Heroism

Superhero (n): a fictional character who has amazing powers (such as the ability to fly).

Alternatively, a very heroic person.

…

Dean is only capable of gaping - because Cas is there, right in front of him, before his very eyes - the man he might just have been having a rather kinky daydream about, a few seconds previously - and he's wearing a tatty trenchcoat and a smart suit and glasses - and Dean actually can't speak, because this is actually happening, this is actually happening, and he has no idea what he's supposed to do. Run? Scream? Call the cops? Leap on him?

"You wear glasses." Well, at least he didn't squeal. That really would've been embarrassing, as a pose to divesting him of unnecessary clothing (as in, all of it) and pouncing, and-

"I have contacts," Castiel - Jimmy says. "Very useful."

"Uh-huh."

Castiel smirks at him - actually, physically smirks, with the whole lip-going-up thing - and says: "Aren't you going to show me around?"

"Uh-huh." Dean doesn't move. Castiel cocks his head to the side - and he's got slight bed-hair, and he looks like he's just come from a really great make-out session - and Dean definitely does not want to think about that - no. No. No. No. No. "Yep," Dean says, springing up from his chair, "absolutely."

…

Honestly, there's only so much you can show a guy in a small office - and Dean's hardly paying much attention to the task, anyway. All around, people are looking up from their booths, and murmuring - this is gonna be all around the building by Friday, and Crowley is definitely gonna tan Dean's hide, possibly with Bobby's consent (although he'll probably just do it anyway, the stuck-up ball of slime), just because he can.

"And this is the, uh, photocopier. It, um, photocopies." Dean slaps his hand down on the machine, as Jimmy - Castiel - arches one perfectly formed eyebrow.

"Indeed," he says, "I can see that."

And Dean can feel Castiel - not in a 'the force is strong in this one' sense, but in a 'he's standing next to me, he's standing next to me, our shoulders are brushing, OMG, what do I do???' kind of way. Suddenly, Dean's painfully conscious of the stains on his shirt, and his messed-up hair, and the slight stubble he's been cultivating (but not really getting anywhere with) - and Castiel's arm is touching his, actually touching, and he's leaning closer-

"Why don't we have a talk, Jimmy?" Dean snaps, drawing back. Castiel smirks again - and woah, that's nice, that's really nice - and he says, drawing out each word:

"I would be agreeable to that."

Dean scowls, yanks open the door of the supply cupboard, and shoves Cas inside. With a noise of protest, Castiel stumbles in, sending a pile of paper spiralling down - and Dean slams the door shut.

…

"What the Hell are you doing here, Cas?"

Castiel straightens up, brushing off his suit. He has the nerve to look vaguely affronted. Dean would just adore to kiss - slap - that expression off his face. Slap. Or hit. Not kiss. Nope. Not at all. "I said I would be seeing you again, and I am."

"Yeah, but that was before the whole warehouse thing! Remember that? When you kidnapped me?" Dean folds his arms over his chest, and shoots Castiel a death glare. It's hard to keep up, considering that the other man strongly resembles a kicked puppy.

"You didn't think I'd come back?"

"Not the point, Cas! You kidnapped me! I could be traumatised! Anything could've happened!" Dean gestures impressively, whacking his hand on a filing cabinet. "Ow!"

Castiel frowns. "I would never let anyone hurt you, Dean. I'd die first."

And Dean does not have a response to that, apart from: "OK."

Castiel nods, and says, as though it's the simplest thing in the world: "I came back for you."

Dean's chest jumps. "Why?" He can barely get the word out, past the butterflies.

Castiel takes a step forwards, and Dean takes a step backwards, nursing his injured fist absently, heart pounding - and he's pretty sure it can't be normal to feel like this, because honestly, he's pretty sure he's about to faint - and this isn't good, this is not good - and then Dean's back hits the cabinet, and Castiel's in front of him, hands on his shoulders, and then they're kissing.

They. Are. Kissing.

Kissing.

Really, really, really kissing. With tongues. And teeth. And stuff.

And Cas is there, really, really kissing him, and Dean's eyes widen, and he makes a noise against Castiel's mouth - an 'mmph'. Castiel's head is tilted to one side, and he's pushing, and his hands are everywhere, and what is this what is this what is this, Dean's getting snogged by a freaking super-villain, and he's in a freaking supply cupboard - and what is his life?

"Cas!"

Castiel pulls his head back, puppy-face back on. "I am sorry, Dean. If I read the situation incorrectly-"

"No! No, you didn't! I mean-" And Dean steps in, and wraps his arms around Castiel's neck, and kisses him back - and his head feels a little fuzzy, but that may just be because of the lack of oxygen - and Castiel is kissing him, actually kissing him - and his heart is slam-slam-slamming against his chest, and his lungs are screaming, and his skin's buzzing-

And Castiel's moaning, moaning against his lips - "D-Dean, need air-"

They kiss some more.

The words sink in.

"Oh, sorry, sorry," Dean says, backing off as far as he can (which isn't far, seeing as he's pressed against a cabinet), "I'm so sorry..." Castiel draws in a breath, holding himself up with one hand against the metal, pinning Dean in place - and Dean's head hits the cabinet, and he's staring into Castiel's eyes - big, and blue, the pupils blown up wide. They almost seem to glow, in the gloom.

Dean swallows, tongue flickering across his lips. "Wow."

"Wow."

Dean smiles; it's a fainter rendition of Castiel's smirk, which is the best he can come up with right now, due to the fact that he's about to pass out. "So...does that mean we're going out?"

Castiel tilts his head to one side, considering. Dean waits - and seriously, he's kinda shaking, which Just Doesn't Happen. Dean Winchester is a decidedly Cool Cat. Sure, he's not a vigilante (not like Lucifer, the little weirdo), but he's not some wilting flower, either. He's not the kind of guy to go weak at the knees from a kiss - he just isn't. It never happens. Dean Winchester is as suave as they come - totally.

"I suppose it does," Castiel says - and yep, Dean's gonna faint. Right now.

The door flies open.

Crowley looks at Dean.

Dean looks at Crowley.

"Hi," Dean says, "don't fire us."

…

"You got suspended." Sam slaps the salad down onto Dean's plate - Dean winces, looking down. "From our god-father's company. For making out with someone."

"There are worse ways," Dean shoots back, "remember that time with the fireworks? I-"

"Yes, I remember it, Dean. It's impossible to forget!"

"Well, I'm sorry! I met a guy I liked, and I kissed him! Big deal!"

"Yeah, it is a big deal, Dean! You don't kiss people you've only just met! It isn't done!"

"Why not?" Dean shoots back; and Sam sighs, eyes closing, body slumping.

"Fine. Fine. Just...just keep yourself safe, OK, Dean?"

"Ca-Jimmy isn't gonna hurt me, Sam." Dean stands up from the table, blatantly ignoring his plate. Sam raises an eyebrow at him.

"Who said that?"

"Well...he did...but that's not the point!"

"It is the point! It's the total point! You don't even know the guy! He could..." Sam trails off, hands waving. "He could be a psycho!"

"I do know him! I know him better than I know you, sometimes!" Dean turns away - and uh-oh. He didn't mean to show how much he knew. His brother's business is his brother's business, after all-

Sam stops. Stares. "What?"

Dean chuckles. "Oh, come on, Sam. I'm not an idiot. Why do you work such long hours, huh? Why do you come home covered in bruises? Why do you never say where you've been, apart from 'the office'?"

"I - err-"

"Face it, Sam. I know what this is about." Dean takes a breath, and squares his shoulders. "You've met someone."

Sam's jaw drops.

"Th-that's what you think? That's what you think I've been doing?"

"I'm not a moron, Sammy! I can see the signs!"

Sam heistates, twisting his hands together. "But don't you think it could be...I don't know...something else? Something...less ordinary? Something...special?"

Dean looks at him, hard. "What are you talking about?"

Sam's mouth snaps shut. "Nothing. Nothing. I'm gonna, err, go for a drive. I'll see you later?" Dean doesn't get a chance to reply - his brother's already hurrying from the room. Taking his seat again, Dean's brow furrows.

"You don't own a car!" he calls after him.

The door slams.

…

Bobby wheels himself in, a few minutes later. Dean's cleaned his plate (like a good boy) by scraping it into the bin, and now he's creating a burger with gusto.

"Where's your brother?"

"Gone to see a girl," Dean replies, not looking up, "he'll be back soon."

Bobby mutters something incomprehensible, before saying: "What are you doin'?"

"Making a burger. And, you know, not eating Sam's salad." Dean pulls a face in the direction of the pan.

"I hear Crowley got you suspended." Dean fixedly doesn't look at Bobby, flipping the sizzling burger. His god-father comes to a halt beside him.

"Yep."

From beside him, there's a short laugh. "Who's the guy?"

Dean looks down, surprised. "Jimmy. Jimmy Novak. He's a secretary - a real nice one. But...I thought-"

"I'd be mad at you?" Dean nods, as Bobby's eyes glow. "I'm not gonna lie - it was a dumb-ass stunt you pulled, boy."

"I know, Bobby. I shouldn't-"

Bobby holds up a hand, silencing him. "But," the older man continues, "what you did wasn't the end of the world. Sure, you kissed a guy at work. It's not as if you tried to blow up the building again."

"That was an-"

"Accident, I know. And Charlie just happened to be getting people out of the ground floor, huh?"

"Sorry?" Dean hazards. Bobby smiles at him.

"When all's said and done, you're just an idiot in love. You're not gonna get fired for that. Besides, Crowley's an ass; a good worker, a good tactician, but an ass. OK?"

"OK," Dean breathes, and grins. Bobby grins back, from beneath his cap.

"That's my boy. Now, fry up another burger." Bobby shudders. "I've had enough salad to last me a lifetime."

…

Now, with more free time than he knows what to do with, there's only one thing on Dean's mind - as in, a blue-eyed boy with a stupid cape. As in, the lack of his ability to communicate with Cas. As in, where can he find Cas? He didn't exactly have a chance to get his number, before he was forcibly thrown from the building, on account of 'taking advantage' (Castiel's protestations ringing in the background).

Where do super-villains go in their spare time? He can't picture Castiel hanging around the bowling alley, even in Novak-mode. That's what regular guys are meant to do, and Cas isn't exactly one of those. Or even remotely normal. Or sane. Not that it's a bad thing - of course not. Dean's hardly your Average Joe himself...far from it. In fact, he's not even sure what ordinary people do. Dean spends most of his time nowadays getting it on with super-villains- which, he thinks, he should probably be more worried about.

The problem is, Dean can't stop thinking about Castiel. At all. Lying in bed, all he can see is Castiel: leaning into him, pressing their lips together, slightly clumsy and slightly heated, voice a rich growl: "I would never let anyone hurt you, Dean. I'd die first." And sure, Dean may have a few imaginary scenarios in his head, some of which involve Cas rescuing him from an all manner of burning buildings, and possibly punching Crowley in the face. What's the matter with that?

Staring at the ceiling of his room, Dean closes his eyes, letting his mind wash him away. "Castiel..." he murmurs. It's official: Dean Winchester is the biggest pussy in the history of pussies, and he's just fine with that. Somewhere far away, a clock chimes midnight.

"Damn!" A light comes on, in the bathroom - it trickles under the door, bathing Dean's face in a golden globe, searing his eyelids. Placing a hand over his eyes, Dean struggles upright, cursing.

"Sam? You alright?"

There's no reply.

Cursing under his breath, Dean struggles out of bed, breath steaming in the cold night air. Throwing on his dressing gown, he stumbles into the other room, goosebumps rising on his arms - and stops.

Standing in front of the bathroom mirror, cowel hanging on the edge of the basin, is a man; clutching a packet of wet-wipes, and frozen in the act of removing his eyeliner.

"Sam?" Dean says.

…

His brother spins around, cape twirling, mouth open. The cape sparkles as it moves, reminding Dean vaguely ice. It's nice, actually. Very...bright. Dean wouldn't mind getting himself one of those.

"Err...hi, Dean. I...I can explain-" Sam stutters out, pale-faced. It goes against the red of his costume - and there are yellow bits down the sides, and that's really nice. Dean digs it.

"Sam...it's OK. I've known about this for a while."

"You - you have?" Dean nods, as Sam gapes. "But - but-"

"It's alright, Sammy. There's nothing wrong with it - nothing wrong at all. I'm not prejudiced. You don't have to hide anymore." Dean smiles at him.

"What - I don't? But - Dean - you said-"

"Your boyfriend's a cross-dresser, and now you're one, too."

Sam's chin hits the floor. "What? I - no! I mean, yes, but-"

"Sam, you're wearing tights. Don't try to pretend." Dean crosses his arms. "I'm kinda upset you didn't tell me, actually. Do you think I'm backwards, or summat?"

"I don't! But, Dean...I'm not wearing tights 'cause I'm a transvestite."

Dean frowns. "Sam, what other reason-"

Sam steadies himself against the sink, chest rising and falling at the rate of knots. Dean feels the weight in his chest grow - because really? Is that how lowly his brother thinks of him?

"I'm wearing tights...'cause I'm a superhero."

…

Dean stares at Sam. And bursts our laughing. For a few seconds, he just stands there, chest heaving - because damn, that's the funniest thing he's heard in a long time. Sam's face contorts oddly, but he doesn't really care - because seriously? His little brother? Some kinda vigilante? Pull the other one.

"You're joking," Dean forces out, past the whoops, "you - hah - a superhero! Really?" Dean splutters, hands on his knees. "Hah!"

"It's not a joke," Sam says, very quietly - and his voice is serious, and Dean straightens up, laughter falling away. "I'm a superhero, Dean. I'm Lucifer." Through the open window, the moon shines brightly.

"You...you're a superhero. You have superpowers."

"Yes. I..." Sam releases his hold on the sink, and moves into the centre of the room, hand-wipe still clutched in his hand. "I can do loads, Dean! I can fly, and shoot plasma-beams from my hands, and turn off lights, and...and...and all kinds of stuff!"

Sam's smile has a slightly manic quality to it; but Dean can't smile back, because the words just keep on hitting him, slamming him over and over again, like a proverbial ton of bricks. "You're a superhero," he repeats, "you...you're Lucifer."

"Yeah. Yeah, I am."

"How...how long..."

"Ever since I got out of college." Sam rubs at the corner of his eye with a wipe. It comes away black. "I woke up one morning, and all the bulbs in the house were just...toast. I mean, I thought it was a but odd, but I didn't think superpowers. And then one morning, I woke up, and I was floating, and the bed was on fire."

"Floating?" Dean echoes, vainly searching for words of his own. Sam nods.

"About three feet above the flames. I bashed my head on the ceiling. And...and I panicked. So I got outside, somehow, and I fell into a tree, and then I ran all the way to Bobby's place in my underpants and socks." Sam smiles a little at the memory, hesitantly, eyes flashing to Dean's face - gauging his reaction, probably; worried about what he'll say. Dean wishes he could find it in himself to care.

"You didn't come to me?" Sam shakes his head, staring at the tiles. "Why?"

"I was gonna..." Dean snorts. "Really, I was," Sam says, taking a step closer, "you've gotta believe me, Dean. I wanted to tell you. I wanted to so bad. Some days, I was that close...but Bobby said you'd be safer staying out of it. Said it was lucky you didn't have the powers, too. Said I...I shouldn't let you know anything. I wanted to. I...I begged him, but I knew...I knew it was the right thing to do." Sam's face is ashen.

"Sammy-"

"It's dad's fault that I have them."

"What?"

"You know how he died, in the lab accident - that thing he was working on with Bobby?" Dean nods.

"Yeah. Whole place blew to bits...wait. The whole place...just blew up." Sam nods.

"Do you get it? He was making a serum, Dean - a serum to give people abilities. Bobby said he wanted to make...make a better world, a safer world. It didn't work on Bobby, and it didn't work on you - but it worked on me, and...and it worked on him."

"No," Dean whispers, "no, he couldn't have-"

"He lost control - his body couldn't keep up with what was happening to it. He just...just..." Sam stops.

"Blew up," Dean finishes, voice flat. Sam nods.

"But...what about the other guy? What about...err...Castiel?" Dean tries to keep the rise out of his voice, and fails miserably. Sam shrugs.

"I don't know. But his powers...they seem the same as mine. I don't know how he got hold of the serum, it he must've done. It..."' Sam rubs his eyes again, successfully creating rather vivid panda-eyes. "I don't know. I don't know, Dean. I don't know."

"Hey...hey, Sammy, it's alright. It's alright," Dean says, although it totally isn't.

"I thought you'd hate me," Sam murmurs, head tilted downwards.

"Well, I do, kinda," Dean admits, "but that's only for not telling me. I mean, come on, man! How many other people know?"

"A few," Sam mumbles, "not too many."

"OK," Dean says, "OK. This isn't OK. OK. OK."

"Dean," Sam says, finally looking up at him, "are you alright? Do you need a bag? I have bags - lots of bags - heck, Charlie needed one-"

"Charlie knows about this? Charlie Bradbury? Our childhood friend Charlie?"

Sam bites his lip. "Um...yeah?"

"Man," Dean says, "this...this is some next-level shit, Sammy."

"Tell me about it," Sam smiles, "when I first saw the laser beams, I freaked out. Bobby laughed like a drain, 'til I shot his car."

"Laser beams?" And this, Dean thinks, is just a little too much - just an inch towards the too far side of the column. "Hey, Sam...did Bobby say Crowley had suspended C-Jimmy?" Sam shakes his head. "I'm gonna get a beer," Dean says, and flees.

…

Dean races into the kitchen, downs half a bottle of beer on the spot, and collapses into bed in a haze of nothingness. The next morning, he dials the number to the office with shaking hands. On the third ring, Castiel picks up.

"Good morning, Singer and Winchester Chemicals. How may I help you today?" And Dean would love to make a comment about how smooth his voice was, or about how he could 'help' him out anytime - but right now, he's pretty close to having a nervous breakdown.

"My brother's Lucifer. Lucifer. As in, the Lucifer. Lucifer, as in the superhero. Did you know that?" From the other end of the line, Castiel sighs.

"And the penny, as they say, drops. How did you figure it out?"

"So you did know!" Dean shouts, voice accusing, before biting his tongue. Castiel sighs again, more softly.

"I did say I knew Lucifer's secret identity, Dean. I'm sure half the villains in this city know, too." Castiel pauses, as Dean struggles to speak around his swollen tongue. "Dean...this does not affect the way I feel for you."

"You haven't even known me a week! How can you say you feel anything for me?"

"We share a profound bond, Dean. Even I can see as much."

"Err - I-"

"Could you just leave that on the desk, please, Charlie? Thank you - yes, Dean's sick today. He...um..."

"Don't tell her where I am!" Dean hisses into the receiver. "She's in on it!"

"I wouldn't go and see him. He's...um...highly contagious. Yes, yes, terribly tragic. I'll see you later? Right. Bye." Dean lets out a breath, as Castiel says: "You're going to have to talk to her sometime, Dean."

"Yeah, but not right now!"

"Look, I've got to go - Crowley's coming. Goodbye, Dean. I'll see you soon." The line goes dead.

"Cas? Cas? Castiel?" Dean throws the phone down. "Shit!"

…

Dean waits until he hears Sam leave the house, door clicking shut behind him - and he's not going to meet a girl, or go to work, he's going to save the world - and then he runs. With the air of a convict breaking parole, he glances left and right down the street, before sprinting hell for leather towards the highway. He's got no clue where he's going, apart from 'as far away from here as possible'. Not the most precise of destinations, but Dean figures it's alright.

So, he runs, and runs, arms pumping, feet slamming against gravel, leaping over flower-beds, skirting around puddles - until he rounds the corner, and hits the road, and the house is out of sight. Dean slides to a halt, looking around; he's pretty familiar with the neighbourhood, so that's not a problem. Not for the first Tim's, Dean wishes he owned a car, so he could just drive away.

"OK," he says, "OK. I'm OK. It's OK."

"No, you're not."

"Well, hello to you too, Cas."

Castiel, costume-clad, stares at him from the alley. "I went to the house, but you weren't there. Your brother almost caught me."

"Aren't you meant to be at work? Doing my shift? 'Cause I've been kicked out?"

"It's only temporary...and I may or may not have been suspended."

Dean grins, widely. "No kidding?"

"No kidding," Castiel replies, smiling back.

"How?"

"Crowley...insinuated something inappropriate about you, and I...well..." Castiel scratches the back of his neck. "I called him a pretentious ass, and told him that you'd do a better job as Head of Department. Oh, and Charlie clapped. So now, we're both suspended."

Dean whistles through his teeth, unable to wipe the smirk from his face. "Somebody needed to take that turd down a peg, Cas. You did a good thing."

Castiel nods, beaming brightly. "I thought you'd be pleased. Dean...are you my...um...boyfriend?" He says the last word quickly - so quickly, Dean barely catches it.

"Yeah. Yeah, I am. We're dating. Totally."

"Really?"

"Yeah!" Dean says, and then yells: "Yeah, we are!" From behind the mask, Castiel's eyes gleam.

"Fantastic," he murmurs - and then there's the sound if a wing-beat, and a movement in the shadows, and Castiel is, quite simply, gone.

Dean gazes at the spot he stood in, brain desperately trying to keep up with the current events.

"Time to go home," he mutters to himself, turning - and as he moves, his foot impacts on something. "What...?" Squinting, he bends down, fingers locking around-

A single black feather.

Dean grins, holding it in both hands. "Yeah," he says, "OK." And Dean spins around, pockets the feather, and walks away.


End file.
